Snakes and Spiders
by Andrea13 and PersephoneKore
Summary: Fifth in the Stepbrothers series. Hogwarts hasn't been quite the same since the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Tom Riddle, more Slytherin's shining star than ever, tries his notorious charms on a Gryffindor...
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor material profit is intended.

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Snakes and Spiders  
by Andrea13 and Persephone  
Stepbrothers series

Historians were insane. Or, Tom was prepared to admit (very charitably, he thought), possibly just exceedingly inconvenient.

He glared at his list of assignments. The professors, determined to have their students well prepared for the O.W.L.s this year, seemed to be trying to cram the four previous years' curricula into the time already occupied by the fifth-year curriculum. This was, of course, entirely normal, but nobody who wanted to talk to Sharessa seemed to remember it.

He'd thought searching for the Chamber took up a lot of his time -- and it had -- but it was nothing compared to the crazed historians who'd descended upon Hogwarts and Sharessa in hopes of being the one who would produce the definitive biography of the Founders. He couldn't blame them, really, but would it hurt anyone to _try_ to find another Parselmouth somewhere? Or at least remember that _this_ Parselmouth was currently trying to set a school record in number of O.W.L.s received.

At least he got to see Sharessa a lot. They'd taken to trading jokes in Parseltongue while the historians were composing yet another ridiculous question. (Why anyone needed to know if Salazar Slytherin preferred toast or muffins was beyond him.) But it was rather hard to translate _and_ do schoolwork, and he'd rather die before asking a professor for special consideration.

One professor had surprised him. Dumbledore had taken to deflecting the crazed horde on occasion. Not often, but conveniently _just_ when he needed to finish an essay or an assignment. As Dumbledore had rarely spoken in public since his battle with (and rumored defeat of) the Dark wizard Grindelwald a few years back, the historians were _nearly_ as eager to talk to him as Sharessa. Tom found himself in the not quite comfortable position of feeling grateful to the Gryffindor Head.

With his hand still cramping in the wake of an Ancient Runes essay, it wasn't quite possible to feel _too_ grateful, but at least it wasn't looming over him anymore. The fifteen other assignments in his room still were, but...well, he'd get to them eventually. Tom shut the books in front of him with a resounding thud and pushed back from the table. He was going to go flying. At the rate things had been going, he'd lose all his flying prowess and they'd lose to _Hufflepuff_.

He stretched out all his fingers and stood for a moment massaging his hand, gaze roving over the rest of the library. Not too many of his yearmates were in sight -- most would be in private corners or else meeting somewhere they could talk in groups -- but there was a scattering of busy students from other years. 

A few looked down quickly as he glanced past them; he had just taken one long stride away from his table when he spotted a very pretty profile that _hadn't_ moved. 

It took him just one second longer to realize it was the Gryffindor MacMillan whom Fido had been so delighted with, and he suddenly wanted a drink of water.

Instead he focused on the bookshelves beyond her and walked toward them with purpose. He glanced sideways at her paper as he drew close enough to read the title.

It read "Muggle Custom in Costume."

He craned his neck unashamedly to look at what she'd written on the topic. He got as far as two sentences in -- which was great restraint on his part -- before exploding on the third. "Are you mad, or have you just never seen an actual Muggle in your life? Bowler hats are not primitive mating symbols! Honestly. They're _headgear_. If this is the sort of thing Muggle Studies teaches, I'm glad I never took that bloody class. Waste of time, if you ask me."

Tom realized approximately 1.00062 seconds after this left his mouth that it was really _not_ a very complimentary thing to say, and while that usually didn't matter very much with Gryffindors (Rubeus and Uncle Tavish excluded, of course), for some reason he felt as if he's stuck his foot so far down his throat he was now dining on his sock.

She set her quill down and stared at him. "Well, _I_ like it. But do you know, I don't think I have, not up close. Have _you_?" She blinked then and hurried to correct herself. "But I forgot, your father was one...."

Tom's eyes suddenly frosted over. "My _mother_," he informed her, with a slight emphasis on the word, "lived in the Muggle world for several years. She taught us everything we need to know about how to _actually_ get along there."

She picked up her quill again and pursed her lips around the plume. "I hadn't thought I was making that many assumptions," she admitted, "but I hadn't thought of asking a Slytherin for help with Muggle Studies, either."

"Aren't there any Muggle-born students in Gryffindor? Seems like the logical choice, really." Tom leaned back against the table, trying hard to regain his composure after the flub and the insult coming one after another. Then again, she probably hadn't _meant_ it as an insult. It didn't have the hard ring to it when the Slytherins said it. But still...

"Several, but the ones I know well enough to ask questions and might actually try to answer are all busy enough I don't like to bother them."

"Oh. Well...I have some free time, if you have questions." He pushed the thought of his broomstick and of the fifteen assignments piled up on his bed firmly out of his mind and smiled instead. "Purely out of the selfish desire to make the Slytherin fourth years work harder, of course."

"Either that, or you're trying to sabotage me by telling _me_ where our textbooks are wrong, but not the professor." She grinned at him. "Are you sure? I keep hearing our fifth-years go on about O.W.L. preparation...."

A haughty sniff. "Maybe _Gryffindors_ need extra time on it..."

MacMillan put her eyebrows up. "Well, after _that_ I'm sure not to feel guilty. Sit down?" She nudged the nearest chair out from the table with her foot. "So, about those hats...."

"They're just hats. They aren't in code. Do ours mean anything?"

"Well, occasionally 'it's raining' or 'I have terrible fashion sense', but I suppose you're right. However, you've just forced me to come up with another topic for my essay."

She had to be joking, right? "The whole thing was going to be about hats?"

"...Not all _bowler_ hats, but we were supposed to choose one aspect of the Muggle costume and discuss it."

"You could still write about hats. Just write something _else_ about hats. The different kinds and when they're worn, maybe. Or... trousers." Or maybe hats were safer.

"Hmm. I'm not sure why they need so many different types of hats anyway." Moira grinned mischeivously at him. "Some of the ones I've seen them wearing I was _sure_ magic had to be involved."

"Just fashion. Some of our 'fashionable' ones would look just as strange to them, if they got to see them. Which is why they don't, of course."

"Yes, but with ours I _know_ there's magic involved."

Tom laughed -- softly, to avoid glares from the librarian. "Well, just think about how much more creative they have to be to come up with ways of doing it all _without_ magic. Not that I'd like to _live_ like that, but it's amusing for short visits."

"Have you... visited it then? When your mother was teaching you?"

"A bit, yes. We always take Muggle transportation to get to Platform 9 3/4, and Mum used to take us to the zoo and things sometimes. Rubeus kept asking where all the _fun_ animals were, though -- and loudly -- so she stopped."

She put a hand over her mouth, laughing silently. "He was hoping for dragons, I imagine."

"Pretty much anything with poison or fangs would've worked, though _I_ thought the snake house was interesting. We used to run wild on the Preserve with Uncle Tavish, though, so Muggle animals weren't very interesting."

"Especially from inside, er -- they keep them penned up somehow, don't they?"

"Cages with metal bars, or glass walls for things like snakes. Pretty primitive. The Muggles seem to like it, though."

"I suppose without Confining Charms.... Oh, that reminds me, though. How's Fido? Rubeus hasn't had him visiting for a few weeks, unless he's not told me."

"That's probably because I hardly _see_ Rubeus to give Fido to him. I wish it was summer...though I'll have to leave Sharessa then, so never mind. Fido's...warm. And spoiled. He's starting to like my roommates more than me; they're the ones always giving him treats."

"What does he eat? I get the impression most of them live on the magic and heat, for as long as they do, but it _wouldn't_ usually be that long -- or are these not food-treats?"

The corner of Tom's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Edward actually learned how to create a little bluebell flame. Fido _loves_ it, and now everyone else is trying to conjure new magical fires for it. So if you hear Slytherin dormitory has burned down, you know why."

"Oh, don't worry. There's usually _something_ on fire in the Gryffindor dormitory, and we haven't destroyed the place yet."

"So is _that_ why Fido likes visiting so much?"

"Does he?" She beamed. "Maybe. The main fireplaces seem to be his favorite, though."

"I'm starting to think you see more of _it_ than I do too. Not fair at all."

"If you barely get to see your brother and your snake, are you _sure_ you have time to be talking to me?"

"Yes," Tom replied firmly.

"Well, I wasn't _complaining_, of course." 

"Good. _That_ certainly would've been a crushing blow to my ego."

"Not to mention quite silly of me."

"_I_ would certainly think so, but I know Gryffindors can be slightly odd sometimes. I live with two of them."

"Well, I don't believe I've heard Rubeus complain about you either."

Tom smiled self-deprecatingly. "Then you don't listen enough? Brothers complain incessantly about each other. Lord knows I've heard Weasley going on and on about _his_. I know Rubeus does his fair share."

"If he does, it's not where I can hear him -- though I suppose there's plenty of time like that, of course."

"I suppose. Do, er, you have any brothers? Or sisters?" he asked somewhat awkwardly, realizing he knew nearly nothing about her save she was a Gryffindor, had a remarkably serpentine cat, and odd ideas about hats. And nice eyes. 

...Where did that thought come from?

"An older brother. He'd have finished the year before you started. We're all for the moment."

"Oh." ~Very smooth, Riddle. Aren't you meant to be the charming one?~

"He's quite a lot of fun, when he has time. Speaking of which -- you sound as if you could stand to use your free time doing something other than helping me with my homework -- no matter how much I appreciate it -- so _would_ you consider letting me see Fido again?"

"Of course. Any time you want to."

"Now would be good." 

"Well, let's go then." 

She grinned and started gathering up her things as Tom stood. "And I promise to do better research before I say anything else about hats."

*****

Rubeus painstakingly crossed the last 't' on his essay for Transfiguration, holding his hand well above the paper so that he wouldn't smear it all. Ordinarily he'd be using a larger quill, but he seemed to have been going through them awfully fast this year and couldn't find any more of the big ones in the shops. Something about the birds not doing quite so well as usual, and milliners and haberdashers snapping up all the best ones at high prices because they were in _fashion_. 

He thought it wasn't such a bad essay, though, even if it was messier than usual. Rubeus blew on the last line of ink, causing the wettest part to shiver a little, and looked back over it to see if he'd missed anything important. He'd probably covered everything major. 

And he didn't have to write as much as some people, because his handwriting was so big. Though Tom tended to make faces if he _said_ that. This essay was on turning things into animals, though, and Rubeus had proudly written a whole extra four feet on the subject, making his essay as tall as he was when he held it up by one end.

"Rubeus?" 

He stopped admiring his essay and looked down at Leona and then at her mistress as the cat leapt off Moira's shoulder onto his. Moira made a face. Rubeus grinned. "Hi there. Need me to look after yer cat?"

She laughed. "No, actually, I was going to ask a different favor. I... well, I was writing an essay for Muggle Studies and your brother gave me some advice on it. He said you knew about it too, so I was wondering if you could look it over for me and see that I haven't done anything _else_ silly."

Rubeus beamed. He wasn't always the obvious choice to be asked for help on homework -- well, except for Herbology, Potions, or Care of Magical Creatures...well, anyway, he always loved it, and he didn't get asked about Muggle Studies often. "Sure, I'd love to. What's it on?"

"Hats."

He blinked. "Er...hats?"

"Muggle hats," she added hopefully, then groaned comically at herself and shook her head. "Naturally. Being a Muggle Studies essay. So much for not doing anything else silly."

"I'm sure it's a fine essay," Rubeus said encouragingly, looking down at the tiny, precise handwriting he could never hope to accomplish. "Er...would yeh mind reading over my Transfiguration essay while I read yours? I wrote a lot more than usual and...well, I just want ter impress Professor Dumbledore."

"Oh, of course! What is it you're on right now? --Oh." She grinned. "I liked this one too."

"We don' always get to do the _interestin'_ subjects in Transfiguration," Rubeus agreed, beaming. "Thanks."

Leona purred in his ear as they settled down to pore over one another's essays. Moira made a few suggestions, which Rubeus scrawled on a scrap of parchment until she took it and his quill away from him and started writing them down herself instead. She found another scrap, selecting a larger one with a rueful expression, to write down _his_ suggestions -- though the main thing he _wanted_ to say was that he didn't think Muggles treated hats _all_ that differently from wizards and witches, except for wearing less pointy ones. He supposed he could be mistaken.

"You've got quite a long section on snakes here," Moira observed, "but I suppose there's nothing wrong with specializing some. ...I suppose that's on account of Tom?"

"Well, partly. Dad'll work with 'em a right lot as part of his job, but it's _more_ 'cause of Tom. And Aunt Mary, though she's not quite so strong at Parseltongue."

"Oh, I didn't realize your stepmother was a Parselmouth too. I suppose it _would_ be a family trait, though, what with the Chamber and all...So was it strange growing up with half the family talking to snakes without being able to understand it yourself?"

"Aw, no, not so much. Tom's always been real good about telling me what they're talking about -- an' yeh know there's _some_ things yeh don' have ter be a Parselmouth to understand. They can talk other ways as well as a cat, f'rinstance."

"Yes, I remember Fido angling for a scratch just like Leona." Moira grinned and scratched the chin of the feline in question, who purred loudly. "I suppose it's good he had a chance to learn how to play interpreter. He must be getting _awfully_ frustrated with all those historians now."

"Oh, yeh wouldn' have heard him go on about them, would yeh? And right when he's got OWLs, too. Yeh know he was studyin' for them at the start of last summer, too?"

"Really? I'd heard he was a perfectionist, but isn't that a bit much? Does he usually study that much?"

"Well, he did ease off some after a while. I barely saw him for a bit there though." Rubeus shook his head. "S'pose he just wants to be prepared."

Moira propped her chin on her hand and tried not to appear _too_ interested. "I know who to ask for help next year, then. He was a big help on my essay, though I was quite surprised he had the time to help. Especially a _Gryffindor_."

Rubeus chuckled. "I don' know about havin' time, but he'll help me out if I ask -- I suppose yeh did? What made yeh think of it?" He frowned suddenly, worried. Moira hadn't gone on about Mr. Riddle, had she? He wouldn't think her the type -- well, Tom wouldn't have helped out if she'd said anything nasty, surely, so that was all right.

She smiled ruefully and admitted, "I didn't actually think to ask, with him being so busy and I didn't think a Slytherin would want to help a Gryffindor. But he was reading over my shoulder when he walked by and apparently I was so hideously wrong he volunteered his help on the spot."

Rubeus burst out laughing. "I don' think Tom usually goes lookin' over shoulders for things to correct! 'Cept mine, maybe." He paused, struck. Tom didn't. But Tom _had_ mentioned Moira more than once -- which was pretty impressive, considering how often anything other than revision, Sharessa, and historians seemed to get into Tom's conversation lately.

"Hmm. Mine must have been exceptionally egregious, then." Moira smiled. "But I AM glad he offered his help. My essay is _much_ better, though it may not seem that way."

"Oh, sure it does -- I mean -- well, the only thing I can think of is, Muggle hats _look_ different, but I don' think overall they do anything much different _with_ 'em. There's only so much yeh can do with a hat, isn' there?"

"Well, if the Founders thought that, the Sorting Hat would be moldering in Godric Gryffindor's grave now, wouldn't it?"

Rubeus snorted. "All right then, there's only so much yeh can do with a hat for everyday, especially without magic, and we probably do all of that already too."

"True enough, but there are meanings to things that we don't always realize when we use them every day." Moira shrugged, then added, "And not ALL of us grew up with a lot of contact with Muggles, you know, especially not the all-magic families like both of ours. You're more the exception than the rule."

"See, that's a funny thing, it is. Dad an' I probably wouldn' have either, but Aunt Mary says her family's _always_ been sure to keep track of the Muggles and what they're about and how not to stand out too much among 'em if need be -- for all Muggle-borns don' usually end up in their House."

"I suppose Tom's more interested in it than most, with his father," Moira offered casually, looking down at Leona's ears. 

"...Not really." Rubeus lowered his voice. "Look, it's not all about him bein' a Muggle, it's about Mr. Riddle didn' take proper care of Aunt Mary, even if she did still like him enough to call Tom for him. So don' go on about him, right?"

"...I'm sorry, I didn't intend to offend." Though now that she thought about it, Tom HAD seemed to change the subject awfully quickly when the topic of his father had come up. "I didn't even realize that was, er, what happened. I suppose I'd just assumed he'd died when Tom was a baby. I'm sorry, I won't bring it up again."

"Well -- if yeh asked Aunt Mary, yeh might get a better answer. But some o' the things people say about Slytherins are true about just enough people in _an'_ out that Tom's not so used to people askin' without meaning somethin' off by it, and then there's what he did, and that's that."

Moira didn't point out that she probably wouldn't get a chance to _meet_ the redoubtable Mrs. Hagrid, and if she DID likely wouldn't have the nerve to ask such a personal question. She simply said demurely, "Thank you for saving me from embarassing either of us, then. I won't ask."

"Aw, don' sound so quiet over it. Well, I don' mean yell or anything -- yeh know what I mean." Rubeus waved a hand at her. "I'm jus' glad yeh don' want to. ...Yeh like him, do yeh?"

Moira colored slightly. "He's...very nice. And was kind enough to help me with my essay, so I should think I at least owe him enough not to bring up subjects painful to him."

Rubeus grinned. "Well, good. He liked how yeh handled Fido, yeh know -- remembers that."

"Really?" She was, Moira pointed out to herself sternly, pleased all out of proportion to the compliment. _She_ appreciated people who were kind to Leona, didn't she? That was all. "It just seemed like common sense, really. He was acting enough like Leona."

"See, a lot of people won't see that in a snake. Gryffindors 'specially, it seems like, though _I_ never understood it. Dad and me're fine with them."

"I haven't been around as many snakes as cats, I must admit, but a pet's a pet, in my mind."

"_There_ yeh go!" Rubeus beamed warmly at her. "I bet yeh'd get along with Gus or Sharessa, too."

"Gus is your griffin, isn't he? Xavier couldn't stop gushing about him after summer holidays. I'm sure I'd like him, but what true Gryffindor _wouldn't_ like a real griffin?" She grinned. "I think I'd like Sharessa, from what I've heard you and Tom say, but hardly any of the students get a chance to see her with the historians taking up all her time!" 

"Well now -- why don' I take yeh to meet her? Without Tom we can' really _chat_, like, but I bet she'd like seein' yeh all the same -- meetin', really, as she'd have her eyes shut -- and she likes her eye-ridges scratched."

Moira's face lit up with a brilliant smile. "You'd let me _meet_ her? I thought Headmaster Dippet said they didn't want students trying to find the Chamber and disturbing her..."

"Aw, she likes students! And there's a meetin' room set up -- easier if she's there, of course, I don' know whether she'd even be able to hear me if I tried callin' into the Chamber." 

The prohibition had been more for the reason of not having any students accidentally killed by sneaking down while Sharessa had her eyes open, but this wasn't quite the same thing... "Well, I suppose the usual rules don't apply to you on that." Moira's grin turned daring. "All right, let's go." 

"Great! Rubeus rolled up his essay and tied Moira's suggestions to it for later use, then thundered up the stairs to put it away and thundered cheerfully back down. 

Moira had more quietly banished her own essay and set Leona to "guarding" it -- a cat-ism for "curl up beside it and go to sleep" -- and was waiting impatiently by the time Rubeus returned, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet.

"Where are you two off to this time of evening?" one of Moira's roommates interrupted with a smirk as they were about to climb out the portrait hole.

Moira raised an eyebrow, then batted her eyes and said innocently, "Just going to see Tom Riddle's snake," before climbing out after Rubeus.


	2. Chapter 2

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Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor material profit is intended.

****

Snakes and Spiders 2/3  
by Andrea13 and Persephone  
Stepbrothers series

*****

Rubeus led the way to a part of the castle clearly not frequented by many students, but not shut away in any fashion -- of course, if it had been, and hadn't been concealed, someone probably would have been into it illicitly by now unless the defenses were _very_ good. The corridors and rooms were shadowed; Rubeus stopped and banged on a wall eventually. "Just in case," he explained, "so if she's there and got her eyes open she'll know somebody's there and close them."

Moira swallowed. "Good idea. What did you do the first time you found the Chamber?"

Rubeus grinned. "Tom made me tie a scarf over my eyes. As if I didn't know enough ter keep my eyes closed!"

"Well, what did _he_ do?"

"Closed his eyes when she first came out, but he could tell her right off to shut _hers_ too. But _he_ wanted ter be the one ter check, not me." He rolled his eyes and grinned cheerfully. "Brothers, yeh know?"

Moira chuckled. "I've one of my own. Is it safe now?"

"Ought ter be." Rubeus pushed the door open; Moira caught her breath at the sight of the enormous serpent sprawled throughout half the room beyond, scales glimmering in the dim light, head up and a tongue larger than many snakes were entire flickering interestedly toward them.

Rubeus just bounded right in, apparently so used to the scene that he didn't bother admiring her beauty anymore. "Evening, Sharessa! I've brought a friend of mine an' Tom's ter meet yeh! Her name's Moira." He reached the massive head and reached up happily to scratch at Sharessa's eye ridges. "Come on, Moira, she likes this."

Moira took the chance for a good stare as she advanced slowly; hopefully this wouldn't offend the basilisk, but really, how often _did_ one have the chance to stare safely at a basilisk? If one liked that sort of thing. Sharessa stretched various parts of her length almost as if she could tell where Moira was looking, making herself gleam even as she arched her head down. The long forked tongue flickered less than an inch from her face, and Moira held out a hand to be smelt even though this seemed unnecessary.

She became aware after a moment of a low hiss that had risen first when Rubeus came in, though it hadn't seemed to register then. Judging from the rest of the basilisk's behavior, it seemed to be welcome.... "She's lovely." The hiss sharpened slightly as Moira moved the hand up to an eye-ridge.

"She said Gryffindor himself used to scratch her eye-ridges when he'd come see her. I like carryin' on the tradition."

Moira laughed. "So she's more impressive than the stories and _far_ nicer, is that it?"

Rubeus looked sideways and grinned at her. "She was that disgusted with some of the stories."

"I think I'd be disgusted too if I found out there were stories calling me a horrible monster." She grinned cheerfully. "Though for all I know, there _are_ those stories in the Slytherin dorms."

"...Not that _I_ know of, but most people know not to insult Gryffindors TOO badly around me," a new voice put in with a hint of confusion. Rubeus and Moira spun around to see Tom in the doorway, blinking at them. He managed a charming smile for Moira after a moment, though. "I see you've met Sharessa."

"Reckoned yeh'd be studying, Tom," Rubeus said easily. "I thought these two might like to meet each other, especially with Sharessa still out here anyway."

"Well, you shouldn't be conducting guided tours here or anything, but I don't suppose there's any harm in one or two people." He walked forward and hissed something softly to Sharessa, who flicked her tongue out again with every appearance of smiling.

"I don't mean to be a nuisance. But I couldn't really resist...." 

Tom grinned. "_I_ couldn't resist, and I didn't even have someone telling me he could take me straight to her. It's all right. Sharessa said she's very pleased to meet you and you have good hands."

Moira grinned back and told herself once more that she was _entirely_ too pleased to hear that. "I'm glad. And please tell her I'm delighted to meet her too."

"Of course. I've become _very_ good at translating." Tom hissed again, his voice low and very pleasant for all the unfamiliarity of the sounds. "Moira said she's delighted to meet you. You've made another stunning impression. I wish _I_ could impress people so easily."

"But don't you, Salazar's Heir?" Sharessa hissed back softly in amusement, butting her head against him affectionately. "Everyone who's come to see me has smelled impressed by the time they left. You're very smart. And Salazar's heir, of course, so you _must_ be impressive." Her voice turned a little sly. "Is there someone in _particular_ you want to impress? I like Moira." 

"You like anybody who'll scratch your eye-ridges," Tom told her teasingly.

"I liked her before that," Sharessa returned complacently, though she _did_ hiss incoherently when Moira returned tentatively to scratching. "I liked her when you talked about her. When you talked about her a _lot_." 

Tom hoped that the firelight wasn't quite bright enough to show the hint of pink he suspected was in his cheeks. "That's good."

Moira smiled at him and asked teasingly, "Well, Mister Translator, aren't you going to tell us what she said?"

Tom smiled _almost_ easily. "Oh, she said she likes you. The hiss when you started petting her again wasn't actually words, but it meant that too."

"Rubeus said she likes _anyone_ who scratches her eye-ridges," Moira pointed out, then grinned and scratched harder. "But I'll take it as a compliment regardless."

"Oh, she said she likes what she's heard about you, too," Tom said before he quite thought.

Moira blinked, then looked sideways at the basilisk and ventured, "I suppose Rubeus told her about all his Housemates."

"Well, quite a few. ...I believe Fido mentioned you to her, actually." 

"I'm honored. I think." Moira grinned. "I suppose it's nice to have someone else who can talk to Sharessa _without_ your needing to translate."

"I'm sure _she_ appreciates it, too!"

"No doubt. Erm...I finished my hat essay, by the way. I had Rubeus look over it too."

Tom blinked and chuckled, then grinned across at his brother. "Good idea."

"And she read my Transfiguration essay too," Rubeus volunteered, grinning back even if he didn't realize what was quite so funny. 

"The one on animal transformations, just now, isn't it? I still remember Dumbledore's expression when he saw I'd spent an extra roll on a quick discussion of Animagi."

"Don't tell me you've added Animagus to your list of talents, Tom," Moira put in with a laugh. "Isn't prefect, seeker, star student, and basilisk-tamer enough for you?"

"I'd _like_ to study that, but apparently it's almost impossible to find someone to teach you unless you're taking NEWT-level transfiguration -- and you're not allowed to register before age seventeen anyway. Not that I have _time_ right now, either...." He paused at this point and blushed faintly again. "And... well, no. Not if I can do more." Another slight pause, with a soft stacatto hissing in it. "Besides, Sharessa didn't need taming."

"Slytherins are never satisfied, are they?" Moira grinned again and added, "No offense. I'm sure you have some things to say about Gryffindors too. And I meant no offense to Sharessa."

"Oh, I didn't think you did -- neither did she, actually, she was laughing." Of course, she'd been laughing at _him_, mostly. "It's just that despite the stories, if tame's the right word, she's never been otherwise."

"Basilisk _friend_, then," she amended seriously. Then with a twinkle in her eye added, "And translator extraordinaire for too many historians to name."

"Don't _remind_ me."

"Are they even going to let you go home for summer holidays? Or are you going to be here forever, like Professor Binns?"

"I... might end up here part of the holiday. But at least then I won't be trying to revise for OWLs at the same time. You know, I'm really glad they're interested, but if they could spend a thousand years not knowing you'd think they could slow down for a few months, wouldn't you?"

Moira raised her hand to muffle a giggle, but her eyes were twinkling with laughter. "Well, on the bright side, maybe you'll get extra points in History of Magic for it."

"Oh, I get an honorary OWL in that for sure, but I still have the regular one to deal with. Not that it's going to be _that_ hard...." He couldn't quite help smirking. "_I_ pay attention in there."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is there some secret Slytherin anti-sleeping potion, or is it a family recipe? And will you share?" 

"There are plenty of variations -- Alertness Elixirs, Wakefulness Wax, Attention Tincture, Insomnia Infusion -- all right, that last one's more of a liquid jinx. I don't know of any secret ones; you can look them all up... but I wouldn't recommend most of them unless you're _extremely_ good at brewing and don't mind the side effects. There are only a few that are any good for regular use." He paused, then grinned again. "Of course, there are also the ones even Muggles use, if you haven't built up a tolerance to caffeine -- coffee or strong tea."

"...You really DO use potions to stay awake in Binns's class? No wonder you're at the head of your year..."

"No, except for the tea, I just know what they are. The key to staying awake in History of Magic is to be interested in what he's saying and pay attention to the content without noticing his voice."

"I didn't think that was _possible_, but I'll try next time. I'm not sure if I can manage _quite_ your level of dedication, though. Rubeus said you were studying for OWLs at the beginning of last summer!"

Tom shot his brother a quick glance. "Oh... well... I was expecting it to take more time than it did. It's a good thing I did get started, though, as busy as this year's turning out."

Moira looked back down at Sharessa. "And I keep managing to take up your free time. I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, that's quite all right. I've got to take _some_ time not working; even Hufflepuffs do... occasionally." He winked. "And I was the one who went nosing around about your essay, wasn't I?"

"True enough. I've never seen anyone get so worked up over bowler hats." 

"Was I that, er, worked up? I didn't mean to be rude about it."

Moira grinned at him. "You _were_ rather worked up, but you weren't rude. I'm _glad_ you pointed out the errors, honestly. You're not the only one trying to get good marks, you know!"

"I didn't think _that_. I just know I did rather jump in." He grinned back. "I'm nosy, I suppose." And he'd been looking at _her_ anyway. 

"Slytherins aren't nosy," Rubeus chimed in. "They're sneaky."

"There's no point sneaking just to sneak. You have to have a motive. And I'd like to know how looking over someone's shoulder and announcing you want to correct her essay is sneaky," Tom announced with a sort of mock indignation. 

"It might be sneaky if you're really looking for an excuse to talk to her," Sharessa hissed mischievously.

"I wasn't looking for an excuse," Tom hissed back indignantly. "I'm the Heir of Slytherin and if I wanted to talk to someone I wouldn't need an _excuse_."

"Well, maybe you were just trying to get on my good side so you could steal Leona from me," Moira suggested, then tilted her head at Sharessa and added, "What did she say?"

"Oh, she was suggesting silly ulterior motives too." 

"Yes, very silly. As you sssssay, you don't need an excuse."

Tom smiled charmingly and hissed between his teeth, "If you caused Grandfather Slytherin this much trouble, it's no wonder he left the school!"

Moira grinned even more. "I'm curious about what a basilisk would suggest as your ulterior motives for reading over someone's shoulder."

"She's a thousand years old and knew Salazar Slytherin; she could probably suggest more convoluted ulterior motives than I'll ever come up with...."

"True enough." Moira scratched Sharessa's scales and crooned, "You're smarter than those silly boys anyway, aren't you?"

Sharessa gave another hissing laugh. "Maybe you should get her alone instead of talking to her with me here as a distraction, Salazar's Heir."

"I can conduct my own conversations, thank you, Sharessa." Tom rolled his eyes, then added in English, "She said she's, er, tired. She's going to go back to the Chamber."

"I did not say anything of the sort," Sharessa informed him cheerfully, "but if it will help you to relax with a nice witch, I will be as tired as you like."

"_You're_ the one who said I should talk to her without you here," he hissed back. "Good night, Sharessa."

"I know. I'm very pleased you're taking my advice." Sharessa rubbed the top of his head with her chin, bumped Rubeus affectionately on the shoulder, and began winding her way away from the fire. "Good night, Salazar's Heir."

Moira watched her depart sadly. "It was good to get a chance to meet her up close. Do you think I could talk to her again sometime?" 

"I'm sure you could. She likes the attention; you should see her preen and act up for the historians. I haven't told any of them when she's laughing, though."

"How _do_ snakes laugh?"

"You heard her -- ss-ss-ss-ssss, that sort of thing? Though that's one sound I can't _quite_ imitate, at least hers. Maybe when I've been speaking only Parseltongue for a while."

"Oh, was that laughter? She was doing it an awful lot...were _you_ being funny or was she laughing at Rubeus and me?"

"Well, some of it was... she laughed at all of us, I think. She's in a good mood."

"I suppose that's a good thing. I don't think I'd like to see her in a _bad_ mood!"

"Oh, she wouldn't hurt you anyway. But I imagine she _would_ be scary that way." Tom glanced up at his brother. "Of course, some of us are _used_ to that in pets...." 

Rubeus snorted. "None o' mine are scary," he proclaimed with wild inaccuracy, and then gave a prodigiously fake yawn that nevertheless convinced him well enough to become genuine. "I think I'll be on up to bed. Yeh still got a few minutes 'fore curfew, but there it is. Good night, Tom, Moira." And he wandered with no further ceremony off in the general direction of Gryffindor Tower.

"Good night," Moira echoed, fighting back a yawn of her own from sheer contagion. "I suppose I should go back too..." But she didn't make any move to follow Rubeus.

Tom had watched his brother's departure with a sort of half-grateful suspicion and now turned his attention to Moira. "I can walk you there, if you like. Don't worry about letting on where it is -- if anyone does, that is. I've heard some try to make a secret of it, but really, once you've overheard a couple of first-years fretting about remembering what to say to the fat pink lady...."

Moira smiled back and fell into step beside him. Very slow steps. "It helps the first-years bond with their House, but beyond that I don't see what good trying to keep entrances a secret is. Besides, I'm sure with a brother and stepfather in Gryffindor, you'd've heard enough stories to make a good guess regardless."

"Neither of them," Tom confided, "is much for secrets." This was not strictly accurate, considering that Rubeus had not publicized the Chamber entrance and Aragog was, so far as Tom knew anyway, still a general secret. "They'll keep some if it's important enough, but it's not something they're over-fond of." He looked down at her and had the feeling his expression was rather warm. Really mustn't overdo it; seeming importunate was never good. "Unlike certain ancestors, of course." 

"I was under the impression the certain ancestors were yours and your mother's, and _you_ seem quite capable of keeping secrets even if Rubeus doesn't." Moira tilted an eyebrow up at him and grinned challengingly. "Or are you just good at it without being 'over-fond' of it?"

"That," Tom said, returning the grin with interest, "depends on the secret."

"Hmmm. Something to remember if I ever want you to keep a secret for me."

"Very wise."

"Well, I'm no Ravenclaw, but I try."

"Fortunately, none of the houses have quite a full lock on their respective qualifications. You'd get everybody but Slytherins wandering about aimlessly that way, and us not being able to get to our goals on account of being too scared, stupid, or lazy to do anything. And that wouldn't do at all."

"True enough. Are you going to add penning the Sorting Hat's next song to your list of accomplishments?"

"I don't think it would listen. Anyway I had the oddest feeling it was going to dance off my head when I was Sorted, and I've never quite wanted to go too near it since."

She blinked at him. "That's rather...odd behavior for it, isn't it? I don't remember anything too extraordinary about my Sorting... It didn't take very long."

"You must have been an easy Sort. Bold through and through or some such?" He grinned easily at her. "I don't know if it was really going to dance. It didn't _move_ or anything. I just got that feeling. No idea why. Maybe the Slytherin bit knew me or something, but Mum never mentioned being danced at, so perhaps I was just a bit dizzy from all the excitement."

"You mean Tom Riddle was over-excited? Perish the thought. I happen to know for a fact that Tom Riddle was _born_ suave."

Tom swept an exaggerated bow, only slightly distorted by the need to work around a suit of armor standing at attention in the hallway. Moira giggled and curtsied back.

Tom grinned and continued thoughtfully, "I'm not sure it's _allowed_ for anyone to be Sorted calmly. Maybe there's a spell going back to when you actually had to stand up and have the Founders look you over. Or however they did it, exactly."

"I think that would be terrifying, though I suppose the Founders weren't quite as legendary _then_ as they are _now_. But I'd still be terrified at the thought of having to stand up before all these professors I don't know to have them decide where I belong. It was scary enough having a _hat_ doing it!"

"I think at the time people were used to being looked over for apprenticeships," Tom said thoughtfully, "but I imagine it was still nervewracking."

"Mm, good point." Moira looked up at the portrait of the Fat Lady, which they'd reached _entirely_ too quickly for her preference. "Well...I suppose you need to hurry to make it in before curfew."

"I suppose I do." Tom didn't move. But he really should. "...Best of luck with that essay."

"I just have a few things to change with Rubeus' suggestions, then I'll be done." A pause. "Thank you for all your help."

"I didn't mind at all." He gave her a slow grin. "You're much more fun than the historians."

Moira's stomach did a slow somersault. "Ah...thank you. That's a great compliment for someone actually interested in Binns's lectures."

"I really should go before your Head of House catches me out _again_." Tom considered a moment, and then added with an even brighter smile, "But I don't read _everybody's_ essays over their shoulders, you know."

Moira caught her breath and smiled with more shyness than before. "I'm glad you chose mine, then."

Tom grinned down at her. "Me too. See you tomorrow?"

"If you can be pried away from Sharessa, certainly...Sleep well."

"I'll manage. You too." He turned and left, black robes and hair vanishing before too many steps into the shadows of the corridor, and Moira turned to give the password to the portrait. 

"Seems like a nice boy, dear," the Fat Lady said comfortably as she swung open.

"Yes," Moira replied before she stepped in. "I think he is."

*****


	3. Chapter 3

__

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor material profit is intended.

****

Snakes and Spiders 3/3  
by Andrea13 and Persephone  
Stepbrothers series

*****

Tom had made it through the rest of that evening and much of the following day with very satisfactory efficiency, to the point that his somewhat smug grin drew a curious and misty look even from Professor Binns. 

Despite this, he still mustered the assertiveness to tell the historians courteously but very firmly that he had a great deal to do and would simply not be back to talk to them after dinner, though he did add graciously that Sharessa had said they were perfectly welcome to come and see her without him nonetheless.

He was enjoying himself very much and had just finished explaining to a laughing Moira why exactly Rubeus might have been grumbling about hats while he corrected his essay for transfiguration (and reassuring her that it actually had nothing to do with her own composition) when Leona stopped pacing regally alongside her mistress's feet, pricked up her ears, and darted through a door that stood slightly ajar into --

Tom lunged past Moira, shoving the door open, and started across the room. Bewildered, she followed him. 

"Tom, what's wrong?" 

"...Would even a Gryffindor mini-lion be stupid enough to go after an acromantula?" 

"Um...I don't think so. Why?" 

"Because _Leona's about to crawl into Aragog's cupboard_!"

"...Huh? _Accio_ Leona --" Moira waved her wand in the air and summoned a distinctly Not Pleased cat to her, then turned back to Tom with eyebrows raised. "Now. WHAT is this about an acromantula?"

"...Rubeus is going to _kill_ me."

"Definitely serious then." She gave the cupboard a wary look. "There's an acromantula named Aragog _in the cupboard_?"

"He's actually very nice," Tom said, for lack of anything more intelligent. In for a penny, after all... He crossed the room to the cupboard and knelt down. "Aragog? It's Tom..."

Under Moira MacMillan's incredulous gaze, a hairy, segmented leg pushed the cupboard door out slightly. "Yes?" Aragog clicked in wary tones. "You have not brought the monster, have you?"

"No, just a very impertinent pair of lions," Tom said wryly. "This is a friend of mine and Rubeus'. Her name is Moira. I wanted to introduce her to you." Or at least I did, he amended privately, once I didn't have a choice.

"You did?" Moira muttered under her breath. Keeping a firm hold on Leona, she walked cautiously toward the cupboard. "Hello... Aragog. I'm impressed; no one ever told me acromantulae could speak with humans."

"I speak with Hagrid. Hello, Friend of Hagrid."

"Meet our secret pet," Tom said with a wry smile. "Rubeus managed to talk an egg out of a traveler he met a while back. Er, keep a good hold on Leona."

"I am. Though she's not really trying to get away." Moira shook her head in wonder. "That's, um, definitely an unusual one. Rubeus _would_, wouldn't he?"

"This is _Rubeus_," Tom said with a big grin. "Of course he would. But then, he's starting saying the same thing about me with _my_ creatures."

"Well, you've started deserving it, haven't you? An Ashwinder and a _basilisk_." She returned the grin and turned her attention back to Aragog. "How long have you lived here, if I may ask?"

Aragog clicked his mandibles fiercely. "Do not name the monster!"

"Erm, he's a bit sensitive about Sharessa," Tom explained quickly. "Spiders don't really care for...her kind."

"Oh." Moira blinked and eyed Aragog carefully. "I apologize. I didn't know." She had drawn back slightly at his anger; leaning too close to an unhappy Acromantula didn't seem wise.

"Do not mention it again," Aragog clicked. "But you are a friend of Hagrid." That seemed to decide things for him. "I have been here since I was an egg. When I am large enough, Hagrid will take me to the Forest where I may hunt."

"I'm sure you'll like that very much." 

"I will. It is quiet here. Hagrid and his friend do not visit enough."

"Hey, I even brought Fido down to see you last week!" Tom protested.

"It is still not as often as you used to come." Aragog's clicks sounded rather wistful. "You prefer the monster, I think." It was strange to see a spider shudder.

"I'm sorry, Aragog. I'll try to visit more often," Tom said apologetically.

"And I can come visit you too, if you like," Moira suggested.

"That would be very nice." Aragog paused, then clicked, "You need not be concerned about your cat. I will not bite her; I promised Hagrid."

"Well, thank you. I'm a little more worried about _her_, though. Leona tends to be fearless."

Aragog extended a leg to tap the cat, who eyed it warily, then batted at it without particular hostility. "See? Nothing to worry about," Tom said easily, scratching Leona behind the ears. "She can get along with anyone."

"As is proved," Moira added merrily, "by her liking _you_."

"Everyone likes me," Tom said, airily and somewhat less inaccurately than even he may have realized.

Moira considered this thoughtfully for a moment, tapping her finger beside her mouth. 

"Well...I have to admit, you're not the least popular boy in school. Word is you're a shoo-in for Head Boy." She winked. "And I have to admit I've never met another Slytherin named an honorary Gryffindor."

Tom made a strangled noise. "I -- _what_?"

"Didn't Rubeus tell you?" she replied brightly, seeing he wasn't getting any more coherent. "You've been named an honorary Gryffindor. We couldn't really do anything else, as fond of you as Leona seems to be -- she's our unofficial mascot, you see. Rubeus and I sponsored you, of course."

"You--Rubeus--" Tom stopped scratching Leona and looked at her in betrayal. "How _could_ you? After I snuck into the kitchen to get you fish heads!"

Leona meowed and bumped his hand firmly. Moira chuckled. "Oh, come on. It's not so bad. You did have two of us in your family already, after all."

"Rubeus and Uncle Tavish don't count. They're Slytherins-by-association," Tom said with dignity. "And Fido and Sharessa both spoke for you to become an honorary Slytherin."

Moira gaped at him for a second, then started laughing. "Well, I suppose I couldn't get too much more decisive sponsors than a pair of actual serpents! But if Rubeus can count as a Slytherin by association, you can just as well be a Gryffindor by association too, so no more arguing."

"There's something horribly insulting about that," Tom grumbled.

She patted his knee. "There there. Think how much more satisfying it will be to torment Wood about Quidditch when you can claim actual Gryffindor allegiance. Not _all_ of us are bad, are we?"

"Well.... No, I suppose not. You, for instance, _do_ seem to have a certain affinity for serpents."

She grinned at him. "I like serpents. And some Slytherins aren't too bad either."

"Of course we aren't."

"Humans are strange," Aragog clicked, rubbing one long leg against Moira's. "But I like you. You may visit me more, friend of Hagrid's friend."

"I would be glad to," Moira told the Acromantula politely. 

"Do you mind if she pets you?" Tom asked, with a quick glance at Moira to see if she minded. Her eyebrows shot up, but she didn't object.

"Not at all."

"I'd be delighted, but...I'm not exactly sure where you pet an Acromantula," Moira confessed, holding out a hand and trying to decide where to lay it.

"Oh... on the back or sides. Even the legs, just not under the feet, generally. Just be sure to pet in the direction of the hairs -- they're not exactly poisonous most places, at least at this age, but it's irritating if you prick yourself on them." 

Moira obediently lifted her hand and gently stroked it along Aragog's back, going carefully in the direction of the growth. It was rather more pleasant than she would have imagined. The hair was fairly wiry, but springy beneath her fingers. "I seem to have the oddest experiences with you, Tom Riddle," she mused after a few moments.

"What, petting and talking to serpents and a baby giant spider? ...I suppose that is rather odd. Especially since I always thought of Rubeus as the one trying to introduce people to creatures most people don't consider friendly."

"Well... those and being declared an honorary Slytherin...." She grinned at him.

"It's better than being considered an honorary _Gryffindor_. Do you have any idea what my Housemates will say when that gets out?"

"It can't be any worse than what they said when you started having a miniature lion trailing along after you every time you stepped foot in the Great Hall."

Tom winced. "You have a point. I think. Nobody _believes_ me when I insist she must be a transfigured snake."

"You _did_ encourage her." 

"I know!" Tom paused ane looked thoughtfully at Moira. "And what are YOUR Housemates likely to say about you?"

"Being an honorary Slytherin? Some of them will be appalled, of course. The ones who want to know if I'm kissing you will probably conclude I am."

"W-want to know WHAT?" Tom spluttered.

"Well you don't have to look so offended! For some reason, about half the House is completely convinced that we have some torrid secret relationship. The girls in my dormitory think that 'going to visit Tom's snake' is some kind of bizarre euphemism."

Tom blinked, then turned a brilliant shade of red. "Merlin," he said weakly. "You do realize you've just utterly destroyed any impression I might have retained about the Gryffindor stereotype of being high-minded?"

"And with you turning that adorable shade, how can we _not_ name you an honorary Gryffindor?" Moira chuckled and continued petting Aragog. "Honestly, Tom, we're _noble_, not _naive_."

"I -- am not -- argh." Tom buried his face in his hands. It was very warm. He considered saying "Argh" again, but decided against it. "Then again," he muttered, "the first time they met again after Hogwarts, Uncle Tavish DID drug my mother."

Moira blinked, her lips curving in a delighted smile. "Did he really?"

"She was ill for a long time after I was born. We went out to visit him and he decided Mum wasn't well enough to make another trip by broomstick that night. So he drugged her tea, put her to bed, and played with me until I fell asleep too." Tom might have blushed a bit more, but by this point it was hard to tell. "She said it was very Slytherin of him."

"Or very Gryffindor. We _are_ frequently accused of trying to protect people whether they like it or not."

"I think that's what he retorted. And a few months later they were married, so I suppose she didn't see anything too intrinsically wrong with Gryffindors."

"Doesn't look that way." Moira patted his shoulder kindly. "I really had no idea you'd be _that_ shocked, by the way."

"Well, I just....I wasn't really expecting..." Leona reached up to bat at his face. He issued a sound that fell somewhere between a chuckle and a groan and buried his face in her fur. 

"Look, you can't tell me Slytherin House is immune to gossip...."

"Of course not. It's just...not usually...about me," he finished lamely.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so that interesting tidbit I heard about you and Dolores Midford last year--"

"Was completely and utterly false!"

She laughed at him. "I thought it was. I hoped you had better taste, at least. But it was still gossip, you know."

"Yes, but it wasn't about...anyone..." Tom coughed again. "You know, I'm usually much more charming than this."

"It wasn't about anyone?" Moira inquired innocently. "I'm fairly certain you and Dolores both exist." 

"We do, but...well, she likes me, but I...well, there wasn't any kind of chance we'd..."

Aragog clicked with mild disapproval. "You are not making sense, Hagrid's Friend." 

"Oh, he's making _some_...." Moira's lips were tense at the corners with controlled amusement. "No chance you'd actually be with Dolores, you were trying to say?"

Tom coughed. "Exactly. She's just had this idea for a while now that we...Anyway. What did you say when they asked you if you were kissing me?" he asked quickly, a bit desperately.

Moira actually blushed a bit. "'Not yet,' actually. They wouldn't have believed a straight denial anyway," she added quickly. 

Tom managed to control his blushes long enough to grin a bit. "Well, it's nice to know no one believes you could resist my charm for very long," he said gravely.

"Hmph. And who's to say I wouldn't be the one doing the charming?"

"Hmm." Tom considered this for a moment. "I'd have to say I haven't seen any signs of it yet."

"Well!" She tossed her head, then settled abruptly into a more normal posture. "Fair enough, as you haven't been trying either. Wouldn't they be shocked?"

"You know them better than I do, but judging from those rumors, they probably would be." Tom angled his head slightly and put Leona aside, where she happily began playing "bat the Acromantula". Surprisingly, Aragog did not protest. "What do you think their reaction would be if you said yes next time they asked?"

Moira blinked, met his eyes, then swallowed. "I don't know. Some combination of gleeful, appalled, and asking for details, maybe."

"Appalled? Should I be insulted?"

"You _are_ a Slytherin. Some would mind." 

"I'm an honorary Gryffindor. Doesn't that count?"

"I didn't think you were going to claim that."

"I didn't get the impression I was being given a choice. It _was_ done in absentia, after all."

"So was making me an honorary Slytherin, unless you did it in front of me in Parseltongue."

"Well, true..." Tom looked away for a moment, then looked back and asked, "Would you be gleeful or appalled?"

Moira turned a bit pink again. "I'm sure it would be very nice."

"Hmm...You know, since you're an honorary Slytherin now, you should know that Slytherins are great believers in practical demonstration..." Tom smiled a bit, then leaned over and kissed her. While he hadn't really expected their first kiss to come in front of an Acromantula and the Gryffindor mascot, it was still...quite nice.

Moira leaned toward him a bit and put a hand on his shoulder... for better balance, of course. When he moved back, feeling a few butterflies even though she had seemed to like it, she smiled at him. And then blushed. "I'd say gleeful."

He smiled back, a little gleeful himself. "Well, I didn't really plan on doing this in front of Aragog, but it somehow seemed appropriate." He reached down and twined his hand in hers. "How is it all our meetings stem from odd pets?"

"I don't know." Moira tilted her head at him, then put it on his shoulder. "But I'm not complaining."

"I don't believe I was either," Tom murmured, leaning his head against hers.

Aragog clicked his mandibles together once. "Humans are strange," he declared, then scuttled back into his cupboard.

Moira giggled. "I suppose we are."

"Well, that gets half our audience out of the way..." Tom frowned consideringly, then picked up Leona, covered her with a flip of his robes, then grinned back at Moira. "Much better," he murmured, then kissed her again.

Leona, instead of squalling like a proper cat should, purred very loudly from her cloth prison. Tom was starting to think that this was quite possibly one of the best days of his life when the door swung abruptly open and he heard his brother's version of a whisper calling out, "Aragog! I brought yeh some--"

He and Moira both jumped and leaned away from each other... not exactly guiltily, but definitely both red in the face. Moira looked alarmingly as if she wanted to laugh. "Er. Hello, Rubeus," she said in a slightly choked voice.

"Moira?" Rubeus looked very confused, looking between the two of them. "Were yeh introducin' her ta Aragog, Tom?"

Tom coughed and rescued Leona from his robes when she started to squirm. "Um...yes. Exactly. She thought he was very interesting."

"Very friendly, too," Moira added gamely.

Rubeus might not be in quite the same league in his classes as his brother, but he was no slouch either. "Er...why is he closed up in his cupboard then?"

"Well, he went back in after a while," Tom said reasonably.

Moira put a hand over her eyes. "To be specific, right after we decided to start kissing."

"After yeh WOT?!"

"Don't yell. We kissed."

"You don't have to look so horrified, little brother," Tom said with mild affront. "I'm told I'm now an honorary Gryffindor, so it's not like she's kissing the enemy."

"I don't know, we _know_ he likes you," Moira observed. "I'm not that objectionable, am I, Rubeus?" 

"You? No!" Rubeus protested immediately. "But--I mean--"

Moira laughed again. "He's starting to sound like you, Tom. Now I see you're brothers."

Tom favored her with a withering look. Moira remained defiantly unwithered, which was probably just as well.

"Tom," Rubeus said bewilderedly, "yeh didn't ever say anything!"

"Well, I didn't really plan on bringing her to see Aragog today. We just ended up down here and Leona tried to explore his cupboard."

"Not about THAT. About--" He waved his hands wildly. "Her!"

"...You knew we were friends, little brother."

"Well, yeah, but yeh never said yeh wanted ter kiss her!"

"If it helps, I didn't know he wanted to before today either," Moira put in.

"Apparently Slytherins are intrinsically more capable of keeping their feelings to themselves than Gryffindors," Tom said with great dignity.

"I'm yer _brother_. Yeh could have _told_ me." Rubeus was clearly going to be offended about this. 

Moira merely arched an eyebrow at Tom.

"It's generally considered good manners to let the lady know first, Rubeus." Tom was turning a very Gryffindor-ish color.

"The lady thinks that if she'd been as obvious as you implied a moment ago, _you_ wouldn't have been nervous." Moira grinned, though she was still looking rather pink herself.

"Me, nervous? Honestly, I don't know what you mean," Tom said innocently, studiously examining the back of his hand.

"Mm-hmm." 

"You hush," Tom ordered, grinning as he snared her hand again.

Moira grinned back at him. Rubeus shook his head and went to take Aragog his snack. "I dunno why yeh couldn't tell _me_," he muttered, opening the cabinet door. "I'm sorry I left yeh to them, Aragog."

"They are strange, but not bad," Aragog said with a shift of his legs that might have been a spidery shrug. "They brought a nice cat, too."

"I'm glad yeh like Leona." Rubeus pulled a package out of his pocket and started feeding the spider scraps. "What do yeh think of Aragog, Moira?"

"He's very nice. I admit he was quite a surprise, of course, but... well, I'm beyond being _too_ surprised by any creature you might turn out to be looking after!"

Rubeus grinned over at his brother. "Well, Tom's got all the pets lately. Don' know what I'm goin' ter do. Maybe I'll have ter get named prefect now."

*****


End file.
